


All Apologies (The Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced Remix)

by moosesal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moosesal/pseuds/moosesal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam forgets what day it is then apologizes.<br/>A Remix of <a href="http://tygermama.livejournal.com/profile">Ritual Public Humiliation</a> by Tygermama. Written for the 2009 Kamikazeremix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Apologies (The Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced Remix)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to cold_poet and dancetomato for the betas.

"There's four things Dean loves. His car, beer, porn, and music." That's what Sam had said up on the stage before he started fucking singing. But he was wrong. Sure Dean loved all those things. But he also loved one thing more: Sam.

He moved to the front of the crowd, front and center, hips grazing the edge of the stage and smiled up at his brother as he pulled out his zippo and raised it in the air.

~~~~~

_That morning_

"Turn around." Sam said.

"What?" Dean was most definitely _not_ turning the car around. He was on a mission. He'd planned this out nearly a month ago. As it was, he was worried he wouldn't make it on time.

"There's something going on back where we ate breakfast."

"Debbie's Diner?"

Sam sighed. "No. The _town_, Dean. There's been a string of unusual deaths."

Dean took his eyes off the road long enough to glance over and see Sam looking at him with his _Come on, Dean_ look on his face.

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Thursday."

Dean huffed out a half laugh. "Yeah, Sam. It's Thursday." He didn't say anything else, didn't turn around the car, just turned up the radio and kept driving in the same direction.

~~~~~

_That afternoon_

They'd hit a drive-thru for lunch, Dean opening his mouth only to ask Sam what he wanted and convey their order to the mechanical voice in the box. Then they were on the road again. Every time Sam tried to bring up the weird deaths that he wanted to investigate, Dean would glare at him and turn the radio up a little bit louder. When one Dropkick Murphys album ended, he swapped it for another until he cycled through them all and turned back to the first tape.

The second time he put in _Blackout_ he decided to just let it play over and over. It was his favorite Murphys album, and had his favorite song. The opening guitar riff of "Walk Away" drowned out Sam's huffiness and Dean let the music sweep over him, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and bobbing head as he sang along.

Fuck Sam.

~~~~~

_An hour later_

"Seriously? I like the Murphys too, but again?"

"To the end, like a friend, stands by you again, and I wouldn't change a thing. Toe to toe, friend or foe? It's all that I know, and I wouldn't change a thing," Dean sang as he took a moment to glare at Sam before returning his attention to the road.

~~~~~

_Early that evening_

"Fuck." Just a whisper, but it got Dean's attention. He looked over to see Sam staring at the masthead of the newspaper in his lap. Sam glanced up and said, "The date. I just… You asked me and I… _Fuck_."

Dean just shook his head and kept going.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't… I didn't forget, I just didn't realize."

Dean snorted at that. _Right. Didn't realize? Like that was supposed to make it better._

He pulled into the parking lot of a bar and opened his door to get out, ignoring Sam's pleading.

"Dean. Dean! Look man, I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!" The final "Dean" was muffled by the slam of the car door. He walked to the entrance to the bar without even glancing back.

He slipped the bouncer a twenty for the cover and ducked inside, sliding through the crowd with ease. He imagined the parting of the sea of people was due in part to the fact that he was so angry. He tried to calm himself, but it was going to take a couple of drinks at least after spending the whole day in the car with Sam. Dean's frustration and anger had nearly boiled over.

A Bobby-lookalike was manning the bar. Dean managed to push forward and make a space for himself. "What beer you got that's good?" He tried not to let the once-over from the bartender piss him off more.

"Well, Rickard's Red's the best beer we got on tap. It's an import though so it's kinda expensive."

He couldn't help the bitter snort that came out. He just wanted a fucking beer, not for someone to judge what he could or couldn't afford. "Hey man, price is no object, celebrating a special occasion. Gimme a pint."

"Coming right up."

He was started by the bright red color, but the beer was strong and just what Dean needed.

Good beer and good music. Forget about Sam. This was his night and he was damn well going to enjoy it.

***

He was on his second beer, wallowing in his misery, when the crowd began to cheer. He turned around to see the band taking the stage. His spirits were lifted until he realized someone was with them: Sam.

"What the hell? What is Sammy doing on stage with the Dropkick Murphys?"

Nobody answered him, of course. Even if someone had heard him over the crowd, they'd be no wiser on the situation than he was.

While Dean stared up in shock, Sam took the mike at center stage. "Hi, I'm Sam Winchester and I am the biggest bitch in the whole universe. See that guy by the bar?" He pointed in Dean's direction. "That's my big brother. He's the only family I got left. And tonight's his birthday. And I forgot. _Completely and totally forgot._"

The only good thing about the moment was that the crowd booed and then got even louder as Sam waved his hands at them in an attempt to calm them down. "I know, I know," he said. "Boo away. I deserve it. But I'm up here right now to try and make it up to him."

More booing. Dean didn't know if he should hop up there and kill Sam or make a beeline for the door before the crowd did the killing for him. But then singer Matt Kelly was telling everyone to settle down, that Sam had a plan.

"There's four things Dean loves," Sam said. "His car, beer, porn,… and music." Dean was shocked. Seriously shocked. "Used to be all mullet rock, but I finally got him to listen to the Dropkick Murphys and he was hooked. He loves you guys almost as much as he loves Metallica, no offense."

_Jesus. He's gonna get his ass kicked. Maybe mine too._

But the Murphys seemed okay with the Metallica comment and Sam just kept talking. "I can't afford to buy him anything for the car, or beer, or porn. I decided that the only way I could make this up to Dean was to completely humiliate myself in public and the Murphys have agreed to help." He took a deep breath and then made a statement that Dean couldn't believe. "Tonight, I'm going to sing Dean's favorite Dropkick Murphys song in public. Dean, this one's for you. 'Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced.'"

The crowd went wild. Dean tried not to fall off his stool. Maybe he was already drunk -- the beer was pretty strong. Maybe somebody had slipped him something? Maybe he was just losing his mind.

But no. Sam really was on stage with the Murphys and he really was going to sing with them.

Dean just stared at him as the band began to play -- the familiar guitar and bagpipe riffs filling the room.

"I play in a band, we're the best in the land, we're big in both Chelsea and France…"

The crowd was screaming, Sam was singing his ass off, and Dean found himself moving through the crowd without even realizing it. And then there he was at the front of the stage holding up his lighter, smiling at his little brother.

***

Ten minutes later, back at the bar they clinked mugs of red beer and Sammy explained how he'd talked to Clyde and Seamus at the stage door and got punched in the arm (which Dean heartily approved of) and made Clyde cry with his sob story. How they'd agreed to help him out and took him backstage to the band where he told his story all over again. And the rest, Dean had seen.

They drank and laughed and sang themselves hoarse along with the rest of the crowd. And after the second encore when everyone was pushed out the door, Dean pressed Sam against the side of the Impala and said, "Kiss me, you idiot. I'm shitfaced."

Sam kissed him hard and slid his hands down Dean's sides to his hips, pulling him in closer and said, "Fuck me, I'm shitfaced too."


End file.
